


Six Degrees of Separation

by Iselin



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse, Angst with a Happy Ending, Break Up, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-25
Updated: 2012-11-25
Packaged: 2017-11-19 11:11:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/572640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iselin/pseuds/Iselin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>"Fake a smile, you lie and say you’re better now than ever, and your life’s okay. Well it’s not. You’re doing all these things out of desperation. You’re going through six degrees of separation."</em><br/>When Derek and Stiles break up, Derek struggles to get his life back on track. And despite the best efforts of the pack, it’s not easy, and it probably can’t be done.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Six Degrees of Separation

**Author's Note:**

> I took some liberties when it comes to Omega werewolves. In TW canon they are described as “lone wolves” without packs, but I chose to draw more out of the actual real life wolf pack. In wolf packs Omegas are described as “the bottom of the ladder” but still a part of the pack.  
> I guess I took some liberties when it came to pack dynamics in general. Wolf packs do have one male and one female alpha, but we haven’t heard how this translates into werewolf packs. Seeing as there can be an entire pack full of alphas, I don’t really see how having two could hurt. It is supposed to be a family, after all. 
> 
> Oh, and, Derek can shift into the complete Alpha shape, like Peter could.
> 
> Title and lyrics belong to The Script.

_FIRST, YOU THINK THE WORST IS A BROKEN HEART._

“Stiles, we’ve had this conversation before, it’s not that simple!” Derek was trying his best to be calm. He really was, but it wasn’t working for him. Any one of his Betas would have dropped the argument minutes ago, but Stiles wasn’t a Beta. He wasn’t scared. For better or worse, he was never scared of Derek.

“Oh really, Derek? Because it seems really simple to me.” Stiles wasn’t backing down. “Three words! That’s all I’m looking for here! And I just don’t understand why it’s so hard for you!”

“Well if it’s not good enough, maybe you should just leave. For good.” Derek knew as soon as he said it that he didn’t mean it. Of course he didn’t mean it.

There was a brief flash of something in Stiles’ eyes. So fast Derek almost missed it. It was broken, hurt.

Derek heard Stiles’ heartbeat speed up, and his sharp intake of breath, and the difficulty swallowing. Derek could hear it all, as much as he didn’t want to.

“Stiles-”

“No. It’s fine. You’ve made yourself perfectly clear, and it’s not like I didn’t expect it at some point.”

Derek didn’t get the chance to answer before Stiles was out the door and half way to his Jeep, the gravel crunching under the soles of his shoes. Derek rushed out after him. “Stiles!” Stiles climbed into his car, closing the door and turning the key in the ignition. “Stiles!”

The car drove out of the estate, leaving Derek on the porch, alone.

He ran a hand down his face. There was a dull ache in his chest, but he forced it away. He couldn’t help but think maybe it was for the best that Stiles left. Maybe it would be better this way. Safer.

The sound of a car approaching made his eyes snap back to the gravel path leading to the house. All he wanted was to see that beat up old Jeep, and he cursed himself for thinking it. But it wasn’t Stiles.

The familiar silver Porsche stopped in the driveway then, Jackson and Scott stepping out on each side, followed by Allison and Lydia. Scott was carrying pizza boxes. The scent of his three other Betas alerted him that they were close, too.

“Brought food!” Jackson grinned. “Where’d Stilinski go?”

“Meeting’s cancelled,” Derek said, his eyes flashing red, alerting them all that it wasn’t up for discussion.

“But-” Scott’s face scrunched up in the very familiar way that Stiles always called his ‘kicked puppy face’, “pizza…” he held the boxes up higher, as if Derek hadn’t seen – or smelled – them.

“Cancelled!” Derek repeated, before rushing back into the house.

Scott shot his fellow Beta a questionable glance, Jackson only shrugged. “What’s wrong with Derek?” Isaac asked as he and Erica rounded the corner of the house, coming into view. Boyd walking not far behind.

“Don’t know. But the meeting is cancelled and now we have all this food and nowhere to eat it,” Allison shrugged by Scott’s side.

“Picnic!” Isaac shouted, his arms shooting into the air with as much enthusiasm as the cub could conjure.

Derek closed the door behind him and sank down to the floor, burying his face in his hands. He knew the wolves on the other side wouldn’t dare come in yet. And Isaac’s suggestion of a picnic seemed to have gone over well with the others. They would be gone a while.

“You okay?”

Derek’s head snapped up, his eyes burning red. The man at the top of the stairs didn’t move. “It’s rude to eavesdrop, Peter. Especially on your Alpha.” Derek pushed himself off of the floor, heading for the kitchen. He could hear Peter’s footsteps behind him.

“You weren’t exactly being quiet. I wouldn’t be surprised if that was what brought your puppies out from the woods.”

Derek only growled in response. He got a beer from the fridge, and cursed his inability to get drunk.

“Derek, are you okay?” Peter asked, again.

Derek took a big gulp of the alcohol before setting it down on the kitchen counter. He opened the backdoor and stepped outside and by the time he hit the woods he was fully transformed, and running as if his life depended on it.

 

Derek ran for hours. He didn’t know how many, but by the time he finally stopped it was dark and the stars were shining. He looked around and quickly realized he was in the Stilinskis’ backyard. His paws flexed into the earth bellow. He loved being in his wolf form, because he usually didn’t have to worry about all the trivial things he did in his human one. Only his instincts mattered when he was wolf. But now his instincts were telling him to seek out Stiles.

Derek’s ears caught up with the sound of the Sheriff’s police cruiser coming down the street. If the Sheriff got home now, then it had to be around 1am.

His eyes searched out Stiles’ bedroom window, directly facing him. It was dark inside. Derek couldn’t even make out the subtle light of his computer. Stiles was probably sleeping. He would never know if Derek climbed up. Probably. Maybe.

Before his wolf could do anything his human wouldn’t approve of, Derek took off running again.

 

The sound of the TV hit his ears when he stepped back into Hale house. It wasn’t loud, but Derek had spent the better part of the last six hours running through the woods. Anything that wasn’t the sound of birds chirping or his paws against the ground was loud to him.

Peter was still up, watching TV, though Derek knew he wasn’t truly _watching_ anything. Isaac and Boyd were on the floor, both asleep. Derek couldn’t really puzzle out why seeing as they both had perfectly comfortable beds in their perfectly comfortable bedrooms. Erica was on the couch with Peter, her head on his shoulder. It wasn’t anything new. Derek could tell from the first time they met that they were mated. It was only a matter of time before they left, and started a pack of their own. “Where were you?” Peter asked.

“Out,” Derek said, heading for his shower.

After hearing the door to the upstairs bathroom shut, Erica craned her neck to look at her mate. “What happened today?”

“I think our Alphas broke up.” Peter tried to sound mocking, but he failed. Even he knew how badly this could affect Derek and their pack. And despite his best efforts not to, he cared.

 

Derek let the water run off his trembling skin. He stepped out of the shower and entered his bedroom, not caring enough to even dry himself off before falling into his bed. There was an ache building in his chest. It felt like it could swallow him whole, like it could break his entire being. It was longing, and it hurt.

The bed still smelled of Stiles. Or, more accurately, the scent they created together. It still smelled like earth and smoke, Derek. But it also smelled like red apples and pine, Stiles. The bed smelled of cuddling and sex and _them._

Derek couldn’t really decide whether he wanted to burn the sheets or bury himself in them. 

 

_WHAT’S GONNA KILL YOU IS THE SECOND PART._

Derek woke up to the sound of the front door slamming shut violently. He sat up straight in his bed, the house was quiet. Too quiet. Derek didn’t hear anything.

There was no breathing body next to him. He just wasn’t there. He wasn’t downstairs eating breakfast with Erica, he wasn’t in the living room watching TV with Boyd. He wasn’t in the dining room helping Isaac with his homework. He wasn’t arguing with Peter. Stiles wasn’t there. In fact, Derek couldn’t hear anyone in the house.

After dragging on a pair of sweat pants and the only t-shirt he could find that didn’t carry Stiles’ scent, he ended up in the kitchen, pouring himself a mug of coffee. He had no idea where everyone had gone – normally it wouldn’t bother him – but now was the time he could really use a distraction. 

The house was completely empty for the first time he could remember since the rebuilding. There had always been someone there. With four roommates and five honorary ones, privacy was a luxury that didn’t come around often. And for the first time, Derek wished it hadn’t at all.

 

They were all gathered at the dining table. It was Friday night, which usually meant pizza night with the entire pack, not just Hale house residents, but not tonight. Peter set the last plate of food on the table with a proud look on his face.

Boyd eyed the creations with a world of dismay. “What is this?”

“…dinner?” Peter sat down at the other end of the table, opposite Derek, with Erica at his side. The table looked so empty with just the five of them.

“You mean this is supposed to be _food_?” Boyd shivered.

“Well you’re welcome to try and cook something yourself,” Peter said, trying to force a smile on his face.

“I miss Stiles,” Erica whispered, the words slipping out so fast she didn’t even get a chance to regret them before Derek’s eyes turned red, and his claws were out. Peter stood up quickly, shielding his mate. Derek’s growl made the glasses at the table vibrate, a few almost spilling. No one dared look him in the eyes, not even Peter, but he didn’t step away from his position in front of Erica.

Derek stormed out of the house.

There was a long and uncomfortable silence. Peter was back in his chair, his hand firmly on Erica’s on top of the table.

“Touchy,” Boyd muttered. Peter sent him a glare. He was good at those.

“I’ll call Jackson,” Isaac said, getting up from the table.

“Yeah, because spoiled little rich boy is such a great cook?” Peter pouted, crossing his arms like a six year old.

“No, but spoiled little rich boy can bring pizza into the middle of nowhere, which is something Domino’s refuses to do,” Erica supplied.

“I can _make_ pizza!” Peter sounded hopeful, for some reason.

“No!” They all shouted over each other.

“Fine! Call your lizard, see if I care.”

“How can a 40 year old werewolf act like such a baby?” Boyd muttered as he brought the water glass to his lips.

“I am _not_ 40!” Peter growled.

“And Jackson’s not a lizard anymore,” Isaac said through gritted teeth as he dialed the number into his cellphone.

 

Derek knew it was all a part of their plan to get his mind off of things, but he didn’t care, because it did sort of work.

Isaac and Boyd were first, making him teach them things he knew they could do without problems. It annoyed him, but he stuck with it.

Then came Allison and Lydia, trying to make him _talk_ about it. He threw them out. Twice.

Then Peter, who made him taste every single thing he cooked. Derek almost threw up. Twice. Peter was banned from the kitchen until further notice.

Scott came by about a week later; he didn’t last long because his scent reeked of Stiles. Peter threw him out before Derek became even more irritable.

Lastly was Jackson, who insisted on working out with Derek. They had never really liked each other, so there wasn’t any talking involved. Just a lot of running. Derek was actually pleased Jackson was able to keep up with him. None of the other betas could. Not even Erica who was easily stronger than any of the others.

They ran for hours. Jackson did seem a bit slower by the end and excused himself, but Derek didn’t really care. He ran until it didn’t help anymore.

 

When Derek came back from the run he found himself yet again in an empty house. He found a note on the kitchen counter from Isaac where he explained that Peter and Erica were out doing something he didn’t ask about (“because yuck”) and he and Boyd were out with Jackson and Danny, having a “guys night out”.

Derek roamed around in the fridge for something to drink but it was pathetically empty. He wandered down to the basement where he knew he had a bottle of wine _somewhere_. He didn’t find it though; instead he found an old bottle of brandy that was his dad’s. Peter must have saved it somehow.

Derek poured himself a generous glass. He wished it would get him drunk, but the burn of it going down his throat and the horrible taste was as good a distraction as anything. He emptied nearly the entire bottle. He really wished he could get drunk. It would make everything so much easier.

 

_AND THE THIRD, IS WHEN YOUR WORLD SPLITS DOWN THE MIDDLE._

When Derek woke up the next morning, the house was buzzing with noise. The alcohol must have had some effect on him because his head was pounding and the sound of six people roaming around his kitchen wasn’t helping.

He could hear – and smell – Peter at the stove, burning the scrambled eggs. He could hear Scott and Jackson fighting over the last of the orange juice. He could hear Erica talking a mile a minute to Boyd about a new club that was opening downtown. And he could hear Isaac chopping up fruit.

He could hear it all. And it needed to stop.

He dragged himself out of bed and downstairs and stopped in the doorframe. He glowered at them, and they all went quiet.

“Hey, Der, want some breakfast?” Isaac asked.

“Why are you all here?” Derek managed through gritted teeth.

“We have come to fill your life with rainbows and daisies and all that shit!” Jackson grinned as he grabbed the carton of orange juice from Scott.

“I’d really rather you didn’t,” Derek sighed.

“Oh come on, Derek. You need to lighten up. We’re not giving up on you that easy,” Scott said, taking back the carton of orange juice, but it was already empty. “Jackass,” he hissed under his breath at Jackson.

“Guys, I really don’t need this. What I need is quiet.” Derek walked out of the kitchen, not caring to hear any protest from his pack.

Derek didn’t really know what to do, normally when the pack was driving him nuts he would take Stiles someplace. Somewhere it was only them. Derek’s chest tightened at the thought.

He ended up wandering into the study, but found it to be an incredibly stupid idea when he got a look at the complete mess of books on the floor. Stiles had made it the day before he left. He was researching something, Derek didn’t remember what. Stiles was the only one who really used the room, and the only reason Derek had even included it in the rebuilding. There were hundreds of books on the shelves that stretched across three of the walls. There were no windows in the room. Derek had always felt a bit claustrophobic in there, but Stiles had loved it.

Derek sat down at the desk, booting up the computer. It wasn’t like he had anything else to do.

He didn’t touch the mess on the floor, because deep inside he still hoped Stiles would come back, and he would be furious if Derek cleared the books away.

 

Everyone had gone out again at 7pm to meet up with Allison, Danny, Lydia…and Stiles, leaving Derek alone in the house. Isaac and Boyd had both volunteered to stay behind, but Derek had told them to go.

Derek thought the lack of noise would be heavenly after everyone fussing over him all day, but all it did was make it harder for him to ignore his thoughts.

After hours of boxing in the basement, Derek got a bottle of beer out of the fridge. He sat down in front of the TV. At least it would make for a good distraction for a little while.

He smelled Isaac before he heard him. He was alone, and it didn’t take him long to come through the front door.

“I’m back! Derek?”

Derek didn’t answer. The sound of the TV would attract Isaac to the living room immediately anyway.

“Thought you had date night?” Derek said, taking another swig at his beer. The bottle was almost empty already.

“Need a boyfriend for that,” Isaac sighed. He sat down on the couch next to his Alpha. “Isn’t that like your fourth beer today or something?”

“Or something,” Derek confirmed. Because it had been more than four. A lot more than four.

“You can’t keep doing that.”

“What’s the problem?” Derek asked, putting the empty beer bottle on the coffee table.

“Your drinking!” Isaac turned on the couch to face him.

“I can’t get drunk, so, again, what’s the problem?” Derek was beginning to lose his patience, which was saying something. He rarely lost it with Isaac.

“You’ll get sick, Derek.”

“I’ll heal.”

Isaac looked at him with that look Derek hated, because it always managed to make him feel guilty, no matter what he was doing.

“Yeah, _physically_ maybe, but that’s not what I’m worried about.” Isaac said the words carefully, knowing Derek would take them very personally. Isaac was almost expecting him to lose it. But it didn’t happen.

“Well don’t bother. I’m fine.” Derek didn’t bother a second glance at Isaac before getting up from the couch and heading back down to the basement.

 

A few days later, Derek found Isaac standing between him and the backdoor.

“Where are you going?” Isaac demanded.

“To run,” Derek sighed.

“You know you’re giving this whole ‘running from your problems’ thing a whole new meaning, right?”

Derek didn’t bother answering. “Either get out of my way, or join me. Preferably the former.”

Isaac seemed to consider it for a moment before stepping aside. Derek stepped through, but before he got too excited about the victory against the cub, Isaac stepped right out behind him.

Derek glared at him.

“So, are we running wolf or human?” Isaac asked, a huge grin on his face. Derek was about to tell him to get lost, but he knew Isaac wouldn’t listen.

“Human,” Derek sighed before starting a steady jog towards the forest.

 

Isaac watched as Derek took another mouthful of his beer. He knew his words wouldn’t matter to the Alpha, but it didn’t mean he was going to shut up about it.

“Why do you even drink if you can’t get drunk?”

“Because it tastes horrible and has an aftertaste that makes you want to die,” Derek said before taking another one.

“…You’re really not helping me understand here.”

Derek stared at the bottle for a moment before saying, “It makes it easier to forget.”

 

_AND FOURT, YOU’RE GONNA THINK THAT YOU’VE FIXED YOURSELF._

“Come on you bunch of idiots!” Derek shouted into the wind. The rain was holding the strong and sour wind company, making his Betas even more useless than before. He didn’t understand the problem. They had only been running intervals for a few hours. Why did they complain so much?

“If he wasn’t my Alpha, he would be dead,” Boyd wheezed, hunched over, trying to catch his breath.

“Screw being an Alpha, this is ridiculous. Just because he’s miserable doesn’t mean we have to die!” Scott rasped.

Jackson was the only one who seemed like he wasn’t dying, but even he had trouble standing upright, and he was starting to turn slightly green. Erica was already on the ground. So was Isaac. There surely had to be a limit to how much torture an Alpha could inflict on his or her pack before they were fired from the job. There just had to be.

“Can’t. Move. Go on. Without me.” Isaac’s voice was muffled by the leaves his face had crashed into.

“You’re all pathetic!” Derek growled from his place in front of them.

“How come Peter doesn’t have torture training?” Jackson shouted back. “Don’t Omegas get quality time with their dear Alpha?”

Derek growled, his eyes flashing red. Truth be told, the less Peter had to do with the rest of the pack, the better. Derek still didn’t trust him much.

Think of the Devil and he shall appear. “Maybe you should give them a break?”

Derek turned toward Peter, shooting him a glare. But arguing wouldn’t make his pack get themselves together any faster. “Fine,” he growled. He glanced back at his Betas, most of them lying helpless on the grass. “Fine, you can all _relax._ ” He said the word as if it was cancer.

Jackson fell to the ground, letting his body finally rest. Derek walked back inside, grumbling about how _weak_ they all were.

“We seriously need to do something about him,” Boyd said. There was a sound of agreement from the others, but no one actually had the energy to say more.

“At least he’s not moping around the house anymore.” Peter supplied, trying to sound like he wasn’t suppressing a laugh at the state of them all.

“I preferred it when he was!” Scott said.

“Well, as much as this pains you all, you have to be pleased that your Alpha finally seems to be getting back to normal. He seems to be doing okay.”

Peter was quickly staring down five sets of glowing eyes, making it perfectly clear to him that no, no they were not pleased.

“We’ll deal with it,” Erica said, nudging Isaac, who made the sound of a dying animal in response. 

 

Erica lifted the window as quietly as she could. She knew Stiles’ dad was home, and waking the sheriff was the last thing she wanted to do.

“You know, I do have a door,” Stiles sighed as they stepped through. “Didn’t want to wake your dad,” Isaac smiled sheepishly.

“Let me guess, Derek sent you? No, wait, of course he didn’t. Why are you here?”

“We missed you?” Erica tried her most winning smile, but Stiles didn’t flinch. “Why are you here?”

“We really just want to talk to you,” Isaac said softly, moving to sit down on the floor, leaning back into the bed. Erica sat down next to him, making it clear to Stiles that they weren’t leaving.

Stiles just sighed, sitting back down in his chair. He couldn’t be mad at the cubs. Especially not when he has missed them.

“Then why do I get the feeling you’re not here just to catch up?”

Erica drew a sharp breath, preparing herself for what could easily turn into an argument. “Derek was an asshole before, but he’s an even bigger one now. And you two were great together, can’t you give him one last chance? We don’t know what happened between the two of you, as much as we pry he won’t budge, but you were great for each other.”

Stiles pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. “So, you’re both here – not to check on me, or make sure I’m not dead or anything – but to guilt me into getting back together with a guy who clearly doesn’t care about me at all, so he’ll go easier on you?” Stiles could barely believe what he was hearing. He had half a mind to drag the two out of his bedroom by their ears, but he took another deep breath, controlling the urge. The looks on their faces told him that they didn’t mean it.

“He cares, Stiles. And so do we. You’re family to us. You’re pack. And we care.” Isaac’s eyes could make the coldest soul waver. Stiles’ previous urge to throw him out the window was replaced by an urge to smother the wolf in cuddles. Because he cared about them, too.

“Please don’t make us live with dad…” Erica pouted. And just like that, they ruined it. “And the running gag continues. I’m not your mother!”

“You’re as good as,” Isaac said under his breath, but Stiles still heard him.

“We miss your awful 80ties music when you cook dinner, and the cologne you wear even though you know our senses pick it up a hundred times stronger than you do, and we miss the way Derek is when he’s around you. And we will never complain about all the vegetables ever again! Peter made something for dinner tonight that, quite frankly, I think was still alive.” Erica took a breath.

“It’s not that simple-” Stiles shivered at the wording. “It’s more complicated than just ‘give him another chance because…we don’t want the same things.”

“We’re sorry,” Isaac said, and Stiles knew he wasn’t apologizing for their request, but for his messed up relationship.

“But it doesn’t change the fact that we miss you, and we want you back.” Erica laid her head on Isaac’s shoulder, making them both look so much younger than they were. And despite himself, Stiles’ instinct to protect kicked in.

“I’m still going to be here. I’m not disappearing. We’ll still see each other. And whenever he’s being a bastard, you come to me. He’s not hurting my pups.”

“You are so totally our mom,” Erica grinned, getting up from the floor and throwing her arms around him.

“Can we crash here tonight?” Isaac asked quietly from the floor.

“Sure,” Stiles said, his smile soft and gentle. So maybe he was kind of like their parent. Not mom. Parent.

 

Derek smelled it immediately. The scent was so strong. It was red apples and pine and Adderall and a hint of ginger. It was _Stiles_. But he couldn’t hear him. Not his jeep coming onto the property. Not his music blasting from the car. Not his voice. But he heard Peter clear as day.

“Get out of here before he picks up on that scent!” His uncle hissed. Derek got out of bed, practically running down the stairs. But it wasn’t Stiles. Instead, Erica and Isaac were standing in the doorframe, apparently being denied entry to the house by Peter.

“What’s going on here?” Derek walked down the last few steps apprehensively. The scent was coming from Erica and Isaac. It was so strong Derek had actually believed Stiles had come back. Had _hoped_ Stiles had come back. Or maybe it was just that Derek had gone without the scent for so long, just a hint of it had him in a frenzy.

“We’re not allowed inside,” Isaac pouted.

“Well the damage is already done now, isn’t it?” Peter couldn’t help but sound irritated. No, not irritated, full on pissed off.

“Why do you-” Derek took a deep breath, trying to block out the sound of his heart pounding. “Why do you smell like—like _that_?”

“We spent the night at Stiles’,” Erica said carefully.

Derek didn’t know why it was such a surprise to him. Stiles was their friend. Their pack. Just because they were no longer seeing each other didn’t mean it should discourage the rest of them from seeing him. He knew that. Stiles would always be pack to them. At least that’s what Derek’s sensible side was telling him.

He gave them a small nod – the closest thing to approval they ever got from him – before heading down to the basement. He needed to let out some aggression before he “accidentally” planted it straight in Peter’s face.

But his uncle only followed him down. Derek was already throwing punches at the boxing bag by the time he was at the last step of the staircase.

“You try your best to push people away, don’t you?”

Derek cast him a glare, but didn’t say anything. Peter flinched as Derek’s punches became harsher. “Well you can’t do that anymore, Derek.”

“Is that really how you should talk to your Alpha?” Derek’s punches echoed through the room. Peter still didn’t move. “Perhaps not. But it’s how I should talk to my nephew. My nephew who is making a mistake.”

Derek’s eyes were red, but he wasn’t wolfing out. Not yet.

“You’re not alone anymore, Derek! You have a pack now, you have a mate—” Peter gasped as Derek’s arm slammed against his throat. His face was twisted into something half human half wolf.

“Or at least you did.” Derek slammed Peter back into the wall. “You’re not alone anymore, Derek. And you have an obligation to your pack. They need you, and they need Stiles.”

Peter only had a split second to react before Derek was throwing him to the floor. Even in his wolf state he was considerably weaker than the Alpha. He didn’t stand a chance.

Derek growled, his wolf wanted to attack, wanted to tear flesh and break bones. But his human only wanted to send a message to Peter, to make him respect his authority, not to kill.

His wolf was stronger.

Derek set his teeth into Peter’s shoulder until he heard bone break. Peter tried to get him off, but he was so much stronger. Derek’s paw on his neck had him gasping for air and only a few moments to get away. Peter’s claws slashed across the wolf’s face, causing a howl. Peter pushed him off, trying to get to his feet, but Derek’s teeth sunk into his ankle and dragged him back down, pinning him down on the cement floor once again.

Peter was strong and struggled against him the entire time. He was stronger than any Omega Derek had ever encountered, but at the end of the day an Alpha could kill an Omega – powerful or not – in a heartbeat.

Derek stared him down and released a growl. Peter flinched, and Derek could clearly smell fear in his scent.

Derek backed off, and transformed back. Peter stayed on the floor, staring at the ceiling and clutching at his shoulder. “You might be able to fool yourself, but you don’t fool me,” Peter gasped. He didn’t mention that the rest of the pack weren’t fooled either. He got back up on his feet, resting against the wall. “He’s your mate, no matter if you say it out loud or not.”

“I’m an Alpha, you’re an Omeg-”

“I’m your uncle!”

“No! You lost the right to call yourself that when you killed Laura!”

Derek stared at him, red eyes glowing. He hadn’t meant to say that. To let Peter see him vulnerable like that.

“And I’m trying to redeem myself here.”

“You honestly think you can make up for that? For killing my sister? And the way to do that is to repeatedly challenge my authority, and to just tear me back down when I’ve finally gotten it together?!” Derek was shouting now and he had no doubt that the Betas upstairs could hear every word.

“Gotten it together?! Derek do you honestly think drinking your body weight in alcohol and punching things 24 hours a day has fixed you?!”

Derek didn’t answer.

“Because it hasn’t. And it won’t. You’re my nephew, Derek, whether you like it or not. And I’m not standing by watching you kill yourself.”

Peter’s shoulder didn’t heal for two days. And Erica didn’t speak to Derek for five.

 

_FIFTH, YOU SEE THEM OUT WITH SOMEONE ELSE._

It was late but Isaac had whined about being hungry for the past two hours and Derek just couldn’t take it anymore. Peter had needed some stuff for his cooking/experimenting anyway and Derek wasn’t about to turn down an opportunity to get out of the house.

Which was why he found himself driving to the 24/7 grocery store downtown at 11pm. He stopped at a red light, letting about ten guys cross the street. They all looked so happy and carefree. No doubt heading to the opening of that club Erica had talked about. Derek couldn’t help but notice the boy walking behind them all. His shoulders were hunched, and his hands were stuffed in his pockets. He looked miserable. He looked familiar. It was Stiles. Just as Derek was about to let go of all his self-control – and actually step out of the car and grab him and kiss him and promise him he’d never be such a colossal asshat every again – someone slung their arm around Stiles’ shoulder. It was Danny. Danny whispered something in his ear and Stiles looked up at him and smiled. He didn’t look miserable anymore. Derek’s grip on the steering wheel tightened until his knuckles were white. He watched as Danny and Stiles walked down the street together, Danny’s arm still around Stiles’ shoulder, both smiling.

The light turned green but Derek didn’t notice until the car behind him honked impatiently. He drove the remainder of the way to the grocery store trying to banish the image from his mind.

 

He fished the grocery list Peter had given him out of his pocket. It was mostly different meats, nothing like when Stiles cooked for them. Whenever Derek went grocery shopping for Stiles his cart was always full of fruits and vegetables, now it would look like a slaughterhouse.

Derek ignored much of the list, knowing it would just taste disgusting anyway. He bought the frozen pizzas Boyd and Erica loved, and the noodles Isaac liked. Some green apples – while avoiding the red ones like the plague – oranges, and pop tarts for Isaac. He had no idea how he suddenly found himself in the alcohol aisle. He really didn’t. He had meant to go to check out, but he figured that as long as he was there, getting some vodka wouldn’t be the worst idea in the world. Or maybe some whisky. Maybe both. Yeah, both sounded good. He once again cursed his inability to get drunk, but at least the burn and taste could numb his mind even if the alcohol couldn’t.

Derek rolled the cart further down until he came back to the fruits and vegetables.

“How’re you doing, kid?”

Derek turned to see sheriff Stilinski staring at him. He was smiling, but Derek could tell it was more due to pity than anything else.

“I’m fine, sir,” Derek lied, trying to smile back.

The sheriff cast a glance into Derek’s cart. He could practically hear the dismay about the items there. Two bottles of vodka, a bottle of whisky, and a six pack of beer.

“I suppose you wouldn’t believe me if I told you it was all for my uncle?”

“Not a chance. Did my kid really screw you up this bad?” It wasn’t mocking, or meant cruel in any way, but Derek could tell the sheriff regretted the words as soon as they were spoken.

He didn’t answer.

“Listen, I know I was never a really big fan of your relationship – especially not in the beginning, with the whole questioning-you-like-a-suspect thing – but…I knew I never had to worry when he was with you. I always knew you’d protect him. And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry it didn’t work out. You were good for him. And I think he was good for you too.”

Derek only nodded, avoiding the sheriff’s eyes.

“Take care of yourself, Derek. And go easy on that stuff, okay? I don’t wanna see you hurt yourself.” The sheriff put his hand on his shoulder, squeezing a little. Derek didn’t really know what to do, because yes, Stiles had screwed him up. Badly. But it was Derek’s fault.

“I will. Thanks.”

 

Isaac was waiting up for him when he got home, sitting in the kitchen with a cup of tea in his hands. “Want one?” he asked, nodding to the steaming mug.

“No,” Derek said, dumping the groceries on the counter.

“Want me to deal with that?” Isaac asked, looking at the bags. Derek was about to say yes, but he remembered the alcohol and knew that if the pup got anywhere near it, it would end up in the sink. “No, it’s fine.” Derek started pulling items out of the bags, but leaving the bottles alone.

“Did you get any fruit?” Boyd asked as he sat down next to Isaac at the table. “Apples,” Derek said, holding the clear plastic up for Boyd to see.

“But those are green,” Boyd frowned.

“Keen observation, Boyd,” Derek muttered.

“It’s just that the red ones are so much better,” Boyd said, walking up and opening the bag.

“Yeah, I know,” Derek said under his breath. He grabbed the bag with the alcohol and stashed it in the pantry behind bags of canned food that no one ever touched. “You guys deal with that,” he said, nodding towards the kitchen counter where he had discarded the items, not bothering to put everything where it belonged.

 

“Can we get out of here now?” Stiles shouted to Danny over the loud music. Danny didn’t seem to hear him. He was still grinding up against a tall and dark stranger, so probably not.

He hadn’t wanted to come out at all, but Danny had insisted, claiming they both needed to clear their heads. So now he was stuck in a club watching Danny dance with God only knows who. It wasn’t even a gay club. Which might explain some of the looks Danny was getting from the burly guys at the bar, knocking back vodka shots like it was water.

Stiles felt extremely uncomfortable and quite frankly all he wanted was his bed. His warm, soft bed. In his house. Where there wasn’t music. Or judgmental stares.

Stiles grabbed a hold of Danny’s arm, dragging him away from the mass of bodies on the dance floor. “Danny, seriously, either we leave right now or I’m taking your car and leaving you here!” Stiles shouted. Danny looked mildly irritated, but nodded and followed him out. He didn’t even glance at the guy he’d left so Stiles supposed he wasn’t that important anyway.

At the corner of his eye, he could see the burly guys from the bar getting up, too.

 

Derek lay awake in bed, staring at the ceiling. He hadn’t been able to get a single moment of sleep since seeing Stiles and Danny together. His mind kept concocting different images of the two of them together. Laughing, smiling, touching, kissing. Derek wanted to punch a wall down.

He could hear Isaac and Boyd talking in the living room. He vaguely heard the mention of Danny’s name and wondered if the others in the house knew about them, too. Maybe everyone knew. Everyone but him.

Derek sensed danger right away, and he knew there were only a few people that could cause it. He got an ache in his arm. Like someone had grabbed him hard enough to bruise. Then, suddenly the pain was in his stomach, and it wouldn’t stop. It felt like someone was kicking him with a steel boot. Then, the familiar metallic taste of blood appeared in his mouth. Stiles. It could only be Stiles.

Derek howled, knowing his Betas would all come running.

 

_AND THE SIXTH, IS WHEN YOU ADMIT THAT YOU MAY HAVE FUCKED UP A LITTLE._

Pain. A hell of a lot of pain. That was all Stiles’ senses could pick up on. Oh, and blood. Can’t forget that delightful surprise. He opened his eyes slowly. It was dark but he could make out the shapes of several people. Three of them being…unconscious?

Memories of shouting, and punching, and _blood_ sped through his mind. Someone had yelled at them as they walked to Danny’s car. Then, two of the burly guys from the bar had started attacking Danny. Oh, God, Danny. Stiles remembered being held back by the third. He remembered trying to fight back, trying to shout at them, trying anything that would get them to stop beating down on _Danny_ of all people. Danny who had probably never even hurt a fly in his lifetime. And it sort of worked – because they did stop beating down on Danny – but then they started on him.

The other shapes around him were talking, no, shouting. They were so loud. But familiar. He could feel a hand on his back, probably trying to comfort him.

“Derek, don’t! You’ve done enough, they’re barely breathing! The police are on their way, I can hear them!” It was Peter’s voice. Peter talking to…Derek. Derek was there, and Stiles swore he could make out Boyd’s shape next to them.

“Peter I swear to God you standing in front of them won’t stop me.” Derek’s voice was so rough; Stiles could tell it wasn’t human anymore.

Stiles’ ribs protested against the amount of oxygen his lungs needed to, you know, live. An involuntary groan escaped his throat.

“Stiles?” Derek was at his side in a second. His face so full of worry it made Stiles want to kiss it away.  “Stiles,” Derek’s voice was soft now. “This is my fault, I’m so sorry,” he whispered.

“S’not your fault, dumbass.”

Derek laughed then. It wasn’t a full laugh, only the ghost of one, but it still made Stiles’ stomach do flips. He could see the worry still there, though.

“Danny?” he croaked. Derek’s face hardened, but he didn’t look away.

“Danny’s gonna be fine. Isaac’s got him.”

The hand on Stiles’ back suddenly got his attention again, simply because he now had no idea who it belonged to. “Who’s molesting my back? Is it Scott?”

“It’s me, idiot.” Stiles could practically see the grin he was sure Erica wore. “Scott and Jackson are on their way though, should be here any minute.”

“The ambulance is here,” Derek said, and with that, Stiles thought it was a good time to pass out again. “This is all my fault,” Derek whispered, stroking a finger along Stiles’ cheek before everything went dark.

 

Derek watched as Stiles’ eyes closed. His wolf almost took complete control right then and there, wanting revenge.

“Derek! Derek, focus!” Peter hissed at him, probably knowing exactly what was running through his head. “Stiles needs you. You and Isaac follow the ambulance to the hospital; Erica, Boyd, and I will stay here and talk to the police. Go!” Derek’s red eyes were focused on the three unconscious men on the ground.

“Derek, go!” Peter pushed him toward his car, Isaac dragging him the rest of the way. Derek drove after the ambulance the entire way, never taking his eyes off of it.

 

When Stiles opened his eyes this time, the light almost blinded him. The smell told him where he was, even if the machines he was hooked up to didn’t. The hospital. Great. Someone was holding his hand. Probably Isaac again, the sap.

“Stiles?” it was his dad’s voice. Stiles replied with a groan. God, his head hurt.

“How are you doing, son?” his dad asked, his voice was soft, obviously trying to cause as little pain as possible.

“Not good. Really not good.”

“Listen, Derek’s outside but I’ll tell him you’re not up for it. He’s gonna be happy you’re awake though.”

“No, wait, I wanna talk to him.” Stiles tried to sit up but immediately regretted it when his head felt like it actually was going to explode.

He could tell his dad was about to protest but Stiles must have looked truly pitiful because he didn’t.

“Fine, you have two minutes. I’m timing you.” His dad got up from his seat, walking out of the room. It didn’t take long until Derek was there, closing the door after him. The speed of it actually caused a bit of a head spin on Stiles’ part.

Derek didn’t say anything, even when he was sitting down in the chair Stiles’ dad had just gotten up from. They were both quiet for a while, neither wanting to speak first. Derek was content to just watch Stiles, though. To just _see_ him and convince himself to not leave and seek revenge, making matters even worse for them all.

“So, does Danny have some super-secret werewolf whistle I don’t know about?” He tried to sound like he was at least a _little_ irritated that Derek had once again come in to save poor, little, defenseless Stiles from harm. But he couldn’t really bring himself to it because if Derek hadn’t, Stiles probably would have been dead by now.

“I sensed it.” Derek didn’t supply much of an explanation, so Stiles knew he’d have to dig.

“You…sensed it?”

“I got echoes of aches all over my body, then a metallic taste in my mouth-”

“Like blood?” Stiles interrupted.

“Yeah, like blood. Whenever someone in the pack is in danger, I sense it. But I’ve never gotten the aches before, so I knew it had to be you-”

“But I’m not pack anymore,” Stiles interrupted, again.

“You’ll always be pack.”

Stiles looked into Derek’s eyes – damn what was that color? – and he wanted so badly to take his hand and not let go.

“Your dad is coming, I’ll be back later.” As soon as Derek said it, the door opened and his dad had that apologetic look on his face like he was doing something he didn’t really want to.

“Time’s up, guys. Stiles needs his rest.”

Derek nodded, getting up from his seat and moving towards the door. He glanced back at the human in the hospital bed. He was so fragile, and it was all Derek’s fault that he was there, broken. Because of Derek’s mistake, Stiles was attacked. He never would have been at that club if Derek hadn’t acted the way he did. And even if he had been, Derek would have been there with him.

The hospital corridor was almost empty, just a few nurses walking through.

“Derek.”

Derek turned to see sheriff Stilinski walking up to him. “I just wanted to say thanks for helping that knucklehead…and when I say helping I do mean rescuing. I was worried about what I was gonna do now that I didn’t have you looking out for him but I guess I don’t have to worry about it. You’ll always watch out for him.” It wasn’t a question, but Derek still felt the need to answer it. “Yes,” he said.

The sheriff smiled, grateful, before walking back into Stiles’ room. Derek didn’t leave the hospital, though. Instead he walked down the hall to where Isaac was sitting outside Danny’s room.

They had both already talked to the police. Telling them the same story Peter and the others had told. That they were all supposed to meet up when they saw the men attacking their friends, and that in the heat of the moment things got ugly and the attackers turned on them as well. It was self-defense. Sort of.

How the three men all ended up with broken bones in several parts of their bodies while the pack didn’t have as much as a scratch would just be labeled under the mysteries of adrenaline. End of story. Hopefully.

“Is Danny going to be okay?” Derek asked as he sat down next to Isaac.

“Yeah, his mom told me he got out of it pretty good. Stiles got the worst of it because he was trying to protect him.”

“Sounds like him.”

They sat in silence for a while. Not really sure why they were even still there. Well, Derek knew why he was there. He didn’t want to leave Stiles, even if his dad was in the room with him. But he wasn’t sure of Isaac’s motives. Had he been there for Stiles as well, it would make more sense, but he was there for Danny for some reason.

“How long have you known about Stiles and Danny?” Derek asked, trying to keep himself calm.

“Known about what? That they’re friends?”

“That they were dating… _are_ dating?” Derek gritted through his teeth. So much for keeping himself calm.

“Derek, Stiles and Danny _are not_ dating.” Isaac turned in his chair, facing him.

“But they were at the club together-”

“Yeah, Danny was taking him out to get his mind off of things. They aren’t dating, Derek. Do you honestly think Stiles could get over you that quickly? Or at all?” Isaac had that look on his face like Derek was the most idiotic person on the planet. He had it often, and right now, Derek was probably deserving of it.

“But I heard you and Boyd talking about Danny?” Derek was still confused. Isaac’s cheeks turned red.

“Yeah, you did. But it wasn’t Danny and _Stiles_ we were talking about. It was Danny and _me._ ”

Derek had a feeling he looked like a complete idiot. No, scratch that, he _knew_ he looked like an idiot. He truly did not want to have this conversation with Isaac. He knew it was irrational to think of him as a little brother, but that’s what it felt like he was. Isaac had always been the baby in the pack despite being the same age as the others. It probably wasn’t going to change, either.

“So you and, uhm, Danny you, uhm-”

Isaac chuckled. “I’m working on it.”

“You should go home, Isaac. I’ll stay, I’ll watch out for Danny, too.”

“No, I don’t want to go.”

Derek couldn’t exactly protest, when he didn’t have any plans of leaving, either.

 

It was 5am when the sheriff left the hospital. Derek listened for any nurses – who had already tried to throw him out three times – before sneaking into the room. Isaac had left about an hour ago, Derek ordering him to bed.

Stiles was sleeping. He looked so peaceful, Derek almost turned around in fear of waking him, but he knew Stiles was a heavy sleeper. Derek sat down in the uncomfortable chair he had sat in hours before, when Stiles had been awake. It was slightly more comfortable than the ones out in the hall, but still not much to brag about. The nightstand was littered with empty coffee cups. The sheriff must have been fighting off sleep for a while before deciding to head home.

“I’m not good with feelings and emotions and all that stuff, Stiles,” he sighed. “And every time I say _those_ words, out loud, bad things happen. Kate, my parents, Laura. Starting to see a pattern?” He let out a humorless chuckle. “Peter keeps pushing me further and further, I’m pretty sure I’m going to kill him one of these days. It’s because he misses you, he’d never admit it but he does. They all do. _We_ all do.”

Derek took a deep breath. The anger boiled up in him every time he heard the heart monitor beep, or the scent of morphine entered his nostrils. “But this is for the best. And from now on I promise to stay away. Or, at least as much as I can. I’ll still be connected to you, especially in wolf form so if you’re ever in trouble I’ll sense it, and I’ll send someone. You won’t have to see me again.” Derek’s thumb stroked the back of Stiles’ palm. “Goodbye, Stiles.” Derek stood up, ready to leave the boy in the bed. But before he did, he leaned down, and pressed a kiss to his lips. 

 

_No there’s no starting over without finding closure. You take them back, no hesitation. That’s when you know you’ve reached the Six Degrees of Separation._

Derek knew before he even tuned in on his senses that he was alone in the house again. The pack had been avoiding him like the plague for weeks now. Not that he could blame them. And since saying goodbye to Stiles one night ago Derek had been apathetic about everything. It had freaked them all out.

As he wandered downstairs he considered if it was socially acceptable to start drinking vodka before noon if it wouldn’t get him drunk. Then he remembered that he never actually cared what was socially acceptable. He just hoped Isaac or Peter wouldn’t come home and give him a hard time for it.

He settled for milk, though. Someone had taken the alcohol – probably Isaac – and he wasn’t in the mood to go out and buy more.

His ears suddenly picked up on the sound of a car. It wasn’t Jackson’s Porsche. It wasn’t someone who had borrowed Derek’s Camaro. It sounded almost like Stiles’ Jeep. Derek told himself that his ears must have been playing tricks on him because there was no way Stiles would be out of the hospital, let alone at Hale house.

The sound of someone running across the gravel out front made Derek still. The scent was familiar, but it was mixed with so many others that he couldn’t make it out. He had his claws ready as the front door opened and the person spoke for the first time.

“Hey sourwolf, get your ass out here, now!”

Stiles.

Derek was frozen.

“Don’t make me come looking for you because I am pissed off!” Stiles appeared in the doorframe. He was in his jeans and the red hoodie that had Derek’s blood boiling. He looked fine. He didn’t even look tired. Like he was perfectly okay.

“What are you doing out of the hospital?” Derek’s brows furrowed and his nose tried to sniff out any pain in Stiles’ scent. But there was none. And no traces of any medications.

“It’s called discharging.” Stiles’ expression didn’t change. He still looked furious.

“But you can’t have healed this fast it’s not-”

“Not what, Derek? Go on, say it.”

“Human.”

“Ding ding ding, we have a winner! But that’s not even what I’m pissed about!” Stiles was pacing back and forth in the kitchen now.

Derek ran through all different kinds of scenarios in his head. Stiles’ healing wasn’t human, but he didn’t smell any different. He wasn’t wolf. He was just as human as the day before last. And there was only one explanation.

Deep down Derek knew what it was, even if he never said it out loud to himself. He knew, because he had seen it before.

“The reason I am so unbelievably pissed off at you-” Stiles continued, with quite frankly a lot of hand gestures. “Is because you basically _broke into_ my hospital room and poured your heart out to an unconscious person, but you can’t do it to my face?! What the hell is that, Derek?!”

“Well, clearly you weren’t unconscious!”

“That doesn’t matter! What matters is that you didn’t have the balls to say it to my face!”

Derek was about to protest and say that it was Stiles’ face, even if he expected said face to be asleep.

“Why can’t you just _tell me_? Three words, Derek. That’s all I’m waiting for to actually know that I’m not just a distraction until something better comes along! That’s all I want to hear!” Stiles crossed his arms, making him look even more determined.

“Don’t you get that I’m trying to protect-”

“Oh don’t you even dare, Derek! It’s not about that and you know it! This is about you and your emotional Great Wall of China! This isn’t about me getting hurt; it’s about _you_ getting hurt! When are you going to realize that I love your stupid wolf ass – no pun intended! – and that I’m not going anywhere!”

Stiles leaned against the kitchen island. His throat was starting to hurt from all the shouting, but if it made Derek understand what an idiot he was, then it was worth it.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Stiles said again, soft this time. “Three words, Derek. Last chance.”

Stiles’ eyes were trained on the floor, like he was expecting rejection and didn’t want to watch Derek while he got it.

Derek walked a few steps closer, taking in the scent he had missed so much he could hardly breathe.

“You’re my mate.”

Stiles looked up then, eyebrows raised so high he thought they could touch his hairline. “…Not what I was going for but I’ll take it.” Stiles closed the distance between them in a heartbeat and Derek had him in his arms again, finally. Their lips met, and Derek couldn’t believe he had lived without them for so long.

“It’s why you healed,” Derek said, breaking the kiss. “You healed because you’re my mate. And I love you.” The words were so easy, so simple. Why had it taken him so long to say them?

“Peter told me werewolves mate for life,” Stiles whispered. Derek nodded.

“So since you like it, you’re gonna put a ring on it?”

“Would that be a problem?”

Stiles was about to say that he wasn’t sure he was the marrying type, and that same-sex marriage wasn’t even legal yet in the state of California and that he was still young, so very, very young but then Derek kissed him again, and Stiles could think of hundreds and thousands of worse things than being married to that mouth. “Not at all.” Stiles drew their lips together in another slow and lazy kiss. “No rush though, right?”

Derek chuckled against his lips. “No rush. I plan on taking my time with you.”

And Stiles could _definitely_ think of hundreds and thousands of worse things than _that_.

 

They were all gathered around the dinner table for the first time in weeks. The house had been buzzing with people all day, even Danny was invited (though that was truly more on Isaac’s insistence than Derek’s). And wherever Isaac was, Danny was too. Derek had a gut feeling that Danny would become a part of the pack sooner or later. He wasn’t quite sure how he felt about it yet, though.

Stiles and Isaac had spent hours in the kitchen trying to teach Peter to cook, which was impossible according to Isaac. Normally Stiles wouldn’t agree, but in this case…yeah, it was impossible.

Lydia and Allison had been trying to set Boyd up with a girl from Lydia’s AP chemistry class. Scott and Jackson had been arguing over the remote.

Everything was back to normal in Hale house. And Derek couldn’t be happier.

 

Dinner was full of laughter and loud voices. They all ate until they felt like they were going to explode. No one even minded helping to clean up afterwards. Though, Jackson continued his favorite pastime of ‘making-babies-cry’.

“Derek,” Isaac hissed. They were both washing dishes – Isaac cleaning and Derek drying – when Isaac leaned over. Derek was distracted, though, because Stiles was talking to Scott, and he was laughing. And Derek always found it near impossible to look away when Stiles was grinning like that.

“Derek! Jackson’s looking at me like he wants to skin me and eat the flesh after several hours of torture!” Isaac hissed.

“What?”

“It’s in his eyes!” Isaac said.

Derek looked over at Jackson. He was sitting comfortably on a stool at the kitchen island, glowering daggers at Isaac. “Don’t worry about it. He’s just scared you’ll steal his best friend away. I had the same problem with Scott.”

“How did you make it stop?” Isaac looked more than a little terrified.

“Well, the difference is probably that Scott’s more of a golden retriever, whereas Jackson’s a Doberman.”

“…Thanks. Thanks a lot, really appreciate it.”

“Sarcasm doesn’t look good on you, Isaac,” Derek said as he dried the last plate Isaac had handed him – giving it to Boyd to put in the cabinet – and walked away.

“Neither does a broken jaw!” Isaac called out after him. Jackson was still staring, but Danny came up and nuzzled Isaac’s neck, which certainly helped distract him.

 

After cleanup, everyone wined down considerably. Everyone managed to – at a squeeze – pile into the large sofa, well almost everyone. Isaac and Danny were on the floor, but they didn’t seem to mind. Jackson did though. Jackson minded _a lot_ , but Lydia smacked him on the back of the head and that was the end of that.

A few hours later, only three people were still awake.

“So, you guys must be pretty proud Alphas right about now. Having everyone together under one roof, happy and healthy, finally,” Peter said. There wasn’t a hint of mockery or sarcasm in his voice, which alarmed Stiles a little.

“What do you mean ‘Alphas’?” Stiles asked, groggily. He might still be awake, but only by a thread. Derek was running his fingers through his hair which really didn’t help.

“You haven’t told him?” Peter asked Derek. Stiles could feel the werewolf still from under him. “No.” Derek said, glaring at Peter. “Not yet.”

“Haven’t told me what?” Stiles sat up. The last thing he needed was Derek keeping things from him. He glanced at Peter, who didn’t seem willing to elaborate. “Haven’t told me what?” Stiles repeated, at Derek this time.

“I haven’t told you because I’m still not sure how it works exactly. My parents told me when I was a kid, but I certainly didn’t understand much of it then, and they died before I could know more.”

“A pack usually has two Alphas,” Peter jumped back into the conversation. “A male and a female. This pack doesn’t have a female Alpha, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t have two.”

“But I’m human?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Derek whispered. “A human can be an Alpha if he or she is mated with an Alpha. Like my parents.”

“Derek’s dad was human; his mother – my sister – was a werewolf, and they were both Alphas of the pack.”

Stiles was quiet for a long time. “Damn, I’m going to have a headache in the morning.” Stiles settled back down against Derek. It was all a little too much to take in, especially at midnight after a really long day.

Suddenly, Stiles sat right back up again. “Does this mean I now have super awesome Alpha powers?”

Derek suppressed a laugh, but Peter chuckled. “No,” he said. “But the pack has to respect your authority just as much as Derek’s and we’re all connected to you in the same way. It’s just one-sided. You can’t feel us, but we can feel you.” Peter looked serious as he explained.

“Is this why you’ve been really nice to me today?” Stiles eyed him.

Peter cracked a smile. “Yes.”

“Oh, hey-” Stiles turned to Derek with a mischievous smile on his face, “this means that after you’re done decorating me with bite marks you can _literally_ kiss it better.”

“…I really did not need to hear that,” Peter whispered.

 

The bedroom was dark, the moon shining through the window casting a faint light. Derek had Stiles pressed against the closed door, hands roaming over his chest. Most of their clothes had already been shed, jeans and shirts lying abandoned and forgotten on the floor. “Missed you so much,” Stiles breathed as Derek’s teeth nipped at his jaw.

Stiles walked them over to the bed, grabbing a hold of Derek’s shoulders and pushing him to sit. Derek’s eyes raked over Stiles’ body hungrily. Stiles smirked, straddling his lap. Their lips moved together slow and lazy as Derek lay down on his back, bringing Stiles with him and turning them over.

Derek’s fingers traced the sides of Stiles’ body. There were scars there, from various supernatural encounters. Some on his chest, a few small ones on his arms. Derek kissed every single one, tracing them with his tongue. “Mine,” he murmured in between kisses. Over and over. “Mine.”

“Yours,” Stiles breathed, clutching at the sheets as Derek’s tongue followed his happy trail.

Derek dragged the last piece of fabric off of Stiles’ body, throwing it to the floor. It was all too much yet not enough at the same time. To have Stiles there, underneath him, watching him fall apart. Their scents mingling together again and the feel of Stiles’ skin on his. It was everything he wanted, and he knew Stiles wanted it, too. That he wasn’t afraid. He was braver than Derek ever could be.

Derek prepped Stiles in record time, the body underneath him writhing, whimpering, “More. God, Derek, more.”

Derek lifted Stiles closer, slinging his left leg over his shoulder and pressing a kiss to the inside of his thigh. Stiles’ breath fluttered and Derek could hear his heartbeat beating erratically in his chest. Derek pushed himself in, and Stiles’ head tipped back, exposing his pale and freckled neck. Derek leaned down and kissed every last freckle on Stiles’ soft skin. Derek started to move, thrusting harder and harder until Stiles’ moans became too much. “Derek,” he whispered, over and over, his fingers digging into Derek’s arms hard enough to bruise a human. Derek couldn’t hold on longer, and they came together, moaning each other’s names and their lips meeting in a bruising kiss.

When they were tangled up in each other and sleep was calling them – and Derek’s head was resting on Stiles’ chest, listening to his heartbeat, his fingers raking over Derek’s skin – that was when he realized what he had. He had a mate, another Alpha for the pack. He had a best friend, and a lover. He had someone he would gladly spend the rest of his life with. He had Stiles.

 

_Epilogue._

Everyone had their own task, because it was – according to Stiles – extremely important. Everything needed to be perfectly synced. He had it all planned out. Even the slightest change of plans could send the entire operation straight to hell. So yes, it was very important.

First, Lydia and Allison were put to clean, peel, and slice the apples. There were…a lot of apples.

Then, Isaac and Danny were given strict instructions to _read_ the recipe and stop fooling around every chance they got. They managed to combine the two.

Then, Derek would measure everything, handing it over to Stiles who would mix it all together.

 

“You’ll need two eggs,” Isaac called out from the kitchen table, followed by a giggle – an actual giggle for crying out loud! – when Danny placed kisses down his neck.

“Okay, two eggs,” Derek muttered as he handed them over to Stiles who found the very focused look on his boyfriend’s face both adorable and hilarious.

“The recipe says they need to be whisked _before_ they go in with the other ingredients,” Danny said. “Oh, right, didn’t see that, sorry,” Isaac piped up.

“Yeah, wonder why. You’re both so focused after all,” Jackson called out from the dining room where he was setting the table with Boyd.

Stiles cracked the eggs into a smaller bowl, whisking them together rather violently. He was a pro at this, really.

“Jesus, Stiles, you’ve really got that wrist thing down. How often do you do this?” Scott said.

The silence couldn’t have been cut with a meat cleaver, but the looks on everyone’s faces spoke volumes. The sound of Jackson laughing manically from the dining room brought the sudden realization onto Scott. “Oh, my God! I did not mean that the way it sounded I swear! Oh, my God!” Scott covered his eyes and was starting to match Stiles in facial color. “What’s next, Isaac?!” Stiles asked an octave higher than usual.

 

Scott and Erica were in charge of getting enough sugar and cinnamon on the apples after Allison had put them on top of the batter. Derek supervised, making sure Erica’s love for cinnamon didn’t cloud her judgment.

Peter was not allowed to do anything. At all.

 

“So, what? I’m not even allowed in the _room?_ ”

“Sure you are, Peter. Just in the far corner. Away from any and all ingredients.” Lydia smiled brightly.

“And sharp objects,” Scott muttered under his breath. Erica growled next to him, but Scott wasn’t fazed.

 

“40 minutes until it’s done!” Stiles exclaimed, closing the oven with a bang. “Now, apple pie next!” he grinned.

The groans coming from his pack really just made it that much better. His dad and Melissa were coming over in a few hours. Dr. Deaton, too. The entire pack together, with their honorary members. It wouldn’t be their first Thanksgiving together, but it would be the first where everyone had settled. Where they all knew their place, knew they were surrounded by people who loved them. Their pack.

Stiles couldn’t really get used to the idea that not only did he have a pack, and a mate. But he was an Alpha. That there were people who trusted him with their lives, looked to him for advice, and loved him like he was family. Because they were. Stiles couldn’t remember the last time he had felt so connected to something. To someone.

When Derek came up behind him and pulled him close, Stiles sighed, content.

He was happy.


End file.
